Timeline
by Kreuse
Summary: Morgana can't control her powers, and when she tried to stop Arthur to go to battle, they both are taken away... Written for the ArMor BigBang Challenge on LJ
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : This fic was written for the ArMor BigBang Challenge on LJ. The plot is mine, most of the characters belongs to the actors who personify them and their rightful authors. **

* * *

I

The voices never stopped. They filled her, painfully. She heard them all the time, whispering, growing stronger every minute. Some days, she barely remembered how it was, when she was alone in her head. Sometimes, she listened, and the voices calmed down. When she listened, her dreams were plagued with violence and death. When she listened, her dreams scared the hell out of her.

So she walked through the days, with her head straight and aloof smiles on her lips, ignoring the murmurs behind her back. Gwen and Merlin were worried, urging her to consult Gaius for a more powerful draught. Even Arthur inquired about her rest, one morning she failed to react to another one of his brash comments. She pushed them all away. She alleged the weather was getting on her. And they believed her, only Arthur expressing doubts; but it was his usual way, to pretend she was lying.

The voices were driving her mad, and she had no way to shut them off. So she listened, and let the horrors in her dreams terrified her.

She woke up. The world had exploded, engulfing everything in fire and ice.

"Morgana!"

Uther rushed in, crushing shattered glass beneath his booths, Arthur just one step behind, but they stopped after one look at the dishevelled portrait she made. The upset woman was so far from the composed lady they saw every day. Seeing her like didn't feel right; she looked… lost. Ill-at-ease, Arthur turned away to examine the crashed window. Uther sat near her on the bed, remembering how she used to nestle in his arms when she was a child, wishing he still could reassure her as easily:

"What happened my Dear, are you hurt? Did you hear anyone?"

"I was sleeping, and a nightmare woke me up…"

_Lie… Lie so Uther won't know you witness__ed his son's death. _Her voice was shaking. She was shaking. The voices in her head were only a vague murmur. Morgana tightened her robe around her.

"She can't stay here, Father."

"Can you stop talking as if I was a burden to deliver, Arthur?"

_You were dying minutes ago… So much blood… So much blood…_

"Arthur is right, Morgana. You will relocate until we find out what happened. You will see to it."

Sometimes, Uther addressed to his son the way he did to a servant.

"Don't worry my dear, we will find the sorcerer who alarmed you and make him pay."

Poor, naïve Uther… If only he knew.

The King gently caressed her head, and left. Arthur gestured Merlin, who waited at the door, then resumed his perusing at the floor, maybe looking for a projectile. He turned to her only when she stood, as a servant announced her room was ready.

"You'd better put your slippers on, there's glass everywhere. Unless you want to face the gossip to have me carrying you to your chambers at night?"

She snorted. Even while trying to be considerate, he managed to turn into an arrogant prat. Arthur took a couple of steps toward her. She tensed. How much he had changed in the past few years. He was insufferable most of the time, really. But he had those moments, when the mask dropped and the man behind revealed himself. The man, the prince, a future king. The voices returned, hurling about wars and mortal wounds. He repeated her name, bringing her back to reality.

"Try to get some rest."

"I'm fine, Arthur."

He didn't look convinced. She didn't care.

* * *

It was Magic. The voices, the dreams, the violent bursts of energy around her were Magic inside her, growing out of control. Resisting was eating on her. Giving in was making her dangerous. She had only a couple of choices; she could learn to control it, and risk her life trying. Or she could ignore her _gifts_ and risk everybody else. She had no choice.

Morgana tried. She listened and welcomed the hideous dreams. She spent hours concentrating, fighting to isolate one voice, one image. Soon, she realized that picturing a candle was effective. She imagined the candle, and nourished the flame burning in her mind with her fears and her frustrations, with each unbearable tension her nightmares brought to her. The abominations she witnessed in her dreams sent so much anguish rocketing though her. Night after night after night she delayed the moment to close her eyes and drift into sleep.

Tonight was no different. Except that Arthur had company. And the girl was not discreet about it. Morgana sighed. The hysteric giggles were getting on her nerves. Burying her face in her pillow, she muffled a groan. She had another ghastly dream the night before. His handsome face had been so horribly deformed by pain. She was exhausted and Arthur's womanizing in the next room made it impossible for her to rest. Anger boiled into her; she pushed it into a flame. Couldn't he at least silence the stupid girl? The fire grew and grew, until she couldn't contain it anymore.

The sudden scream next door had nothing to do with Arthur's talents. A door slammed, and hers burst open, startling her.

"Arthur! What are you doing!"

Half dressed and totally obvious of the absurd of the situation, he bent over the fire. "My chimney just exploded. I'm checking yours."

Her voice took his attention to her.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… She was so…"

"Morgana, what are you talking about?"

She was tired. The voices were roaring again. She covered her ears with her hands. The fire sparkled brutally and Arthur jerked back. Her head was so heavy.

"Stop it, please stop it… Make them stop…"

Abashed, he looked at her frail form on the bed, her knees to her chest, curled up in a ball, her arms clutched around her waist. Her eyes were even more transparent than usual. Her skin under his palm was icy.

"Morgana…"

She shook off his hand. Arthur refused the rebuff.

"What's wrong? You can tell me…"

But the walls were shifting into place again, taking her away. Morgana lay back on her cushions, smoothing the sheets around her.

"I'm tired, Arthur. Surely conversation can wait until tomorrow?"

"You will avoid me tomorrow. So I'm asking now. What's the matter with you? You walk around like a ghost. You barely eat. You wake up screaming…"

"I told you. I'm fine."

"Like hell."

"Suit yourself."

She could not take the accusation in his tone; she would not support pity. He wasn't really worried anyway. He was just annoyed by the interruption of his nocturnal activities. She felt even lonelier. Arthur turned at the door.

"Morgana…"

He was never one to give up easily.

"Good night, Arthur."

He was dismissed. Even he could not ignore it.

* * *

The scene was so the same, again and again. He was lying in the vast plain of mud and crushed grass, barely breathing. Blood was sticking his blond hair, staining his face; blood was everywhere around him. Life was escaping him; his eyes were cloudy already. The proud, undefeated prince was to die on this battlefield.

"Arthur…"

She ran to his chambers. Maybe she could convince him not to go. Maybe this time he would listen.

"Arthur!"

Merlin was helping with his armour. The knights were to leave at dawn, which was coming far too soon. Arthur gave a nod and Merlin exited quietly. The Prince grabbed her wrists, forcing her to face him, trying to calm her down.

"What is it, Morgana? Why are you up at this hour?"

She was still wearing the blue gown she had at diner. The silver and dark gold jewellery added to her pallor.

"Arthur, you must not go!"

She freed herself only to grab his chain-mail.

"Please, listen to me. The battle is lost."

Arthur shook his head, quietly taking her by the shoulders.

"Morgana, no battle is lost before the fighting takes place."

She was almost hysterical; the need for him to stay was pulling so hard into her that she almost felt like she was drowning. She needed to calm down or he would not believe her.

"Please Arthur… I don't want you to fight. You'll die if you go, please…"

He had that smart smile on him. He didn't believe her. _You have to find a way, any way, he must not go…_

Tiptoeing, she pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Please stay with me…"

The kiss unsettled him. He was listening… But no, his hands left her shoulders only to gently unclench her fingers from him.

"The offer is very tempting, Morgana, but it's my duty to lead the knights of Camelot to…"

"NO! I won't let you…"

The voices were spiralling inside her, making her dizzy, burning her to ashes. She could barely breathe; her lungs were screaming. She had to protect him, protect him, protect him… The world was turning so fast, she was falling, taking him with her. Darkness engulfed them both.

* * *

I


	2. Chapter 2

II

A quick glance around confirmed he was not in his chambers. How? He was putting on his combat gear with Merlin, Morgana had came in and clamed… The ghost of her kiss tingled on his mouth. Morgana. Where was she? He got up too quickly, and vertigo forced him to sit down again. He forced himself to stand and retrieve his sword from a strange looking table nearby.

The door opened without effort. Silently, he progressed along a corridor, lit by candles enclosed in little glass balls. Voices were coming from the room in front of him. The masculine voice had a rough accent, something he associated with the continent. The feminine laugh he knew by heart. He pushed the door open, ready to strike.

"Arthur!"

Her warning came too late. Three steps put him between her and a man in his thirties, maybe taller than him, but less strongly built. The stranger had blond hair and blue eyes, just like him. Right now, his stare was fixed on the sharp blade pointed at his throat. He held his hands in a gesture of yield.

"Arthur…"

"Stay back, Morgana. Who are you? What is this place?"

"Arthur, please…"

Her hand played on the tensed muscles of his forearm. She was trying to make him lower his weapon. He fought the urge to obey. The stranger was a wizard, he had enchanted her. There was no other explanation. She would never trust a stranger. She didn't even trust him…

"Sire, you're in my home in Tintagel. My name is Eric Decay."

He kept the blade up at the man. Morgana was still smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. The caressing movement was hypnotic. The sword lowered by one inch.

"How did we get here?"

"I found you in the park this morning. The house is near the Castle."

The Castle of Tintagel… Morgana's home. She was panicked. Somehow, she had brought them to a place she felt safe; her childhood's home. Arthur withdrew his sword slowly.

The man, Eric, bowed his head. Clearing his throat (why would he apologize? He had not really tried to kill the guy, just menacing him a little; a lot) Arthur turned to Morgana.

"Maybe you can explain how you get us out of Camelot to the other side of the country in a blink?"

She stiffened. He momentarily regretted the harsh words. Wary (not fear, never fear) had this effect on him he automatically wanted to be in control, to dominate. She had magic. Surely it was Magic which had them traveled that fast; unless Merlin had helped with the trick, drugging him or something. But even Merlin was not stupid enough to interfere with his leading the knights into battle. Where was the guy anyway?

"I don't know Arthur, I swear… I just… I wanted you to be safe. I don't know what happened… Please…"

She was on the verge of crying. He could not remember the last time he saw her crying. She threatened, she snapped, she glared, she made a scene, but she didn't cry. No, Morgana never cried; less of all because of him. She resented him. She did. Did she? She had kissed him. Why had she kissed him? He held out his hand in an apology, but she turned away, her shoulders straightened, jaws firmly clenched, her chin proudly up. She was way too stubborn for her own good.

"Sir Eric, please, don't take any offence in Arthur's rudeness. He tends to forget his manners quite easily."

Wait. _She_ was the sorceress, and _he_ was impolite? Damned woman.

"None is taken, my Lady. I know for a fact that time-travelling can be a bit… upsetting."

She smiled sweetly at the hesitation, like as a private joke between old friends.

"Time-WHAT?"

"Prince Arthur, I'm afraid you're a long way from home. A very long way indeed."

* * *

Two hours later, Arthur was still trying to process Eric's explanations. To keep it simple stupid (he liked the idiom, one to remember; definitely applied to Merlin), Morgana had them catapulted through time and space, to the XXI century… It was powerful magic, very powerful. Eric was admiring. Arthur was worried. She was determined to keep him out of the upcoming battle, but she hadn't _wanted_ them to move… She was hysterical at the time, and certainly not capable of any rational act, which meant…

"You don't know how to bring us back."

She shook her head, her long hair falling in her face.

She looked a little lost, in the large bed of her guest room. Eric had provided fresh clothing (how could they called them clothes, Arthur would never know) and showed them how to use the facilities of the bathroom. Hot water running without having to wait _that_ was something. He could get used to showers... Not that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry."

He pushed the apology away.

"Yeah, you're sorry, Merlin's sorry, Father is sorry, everybody is sorry. Big deal. Excuses won't help anything."

She was playing with the soft fabric of her borrowed night-dress (cotton, Eric had called it), carefully avoiding his stare.

"I just wanted to protect you…"

"Protect me from what, Morgana? I'm a knight, a good one I daresay. I've been trained to battle my whole life! I know how to fight! And the people, the knights without their Prince, did you think about _their_ protection?"

"The battle was lost…"

"The battle hadn't yet begun! How could you…"

"I'm a seer, Arthur. I saw you on that battlefield, covered with blood, dying; there was so much blood…"

Her eyes were on his now, sparkling with tears again. Tears and something else; pain, and maybe even fear. She was frightened of him; of herself; for him. He stopped pacing to sit on the bed. Shooting accusations at her was not going to help. Anger was still boiling inside him, labouring his breathing.

"Arthur…"

Her voice was so thin. He braced himself for the upcoming words.

"The voices… They're gone. The magic inside me, I don't feel it anymore… I don't know how to take you back, and… And I fear I just can't."

Great. He'd been doomed by a powerless witch. Just... great.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This fic is in fact a crossover of some sort between Merlin and Warehouse 13. However, given that the main characters of this fic are Arthur and Morgana, I didn't post it as a crossover. Claudia and Joshua Donovan are with the Warehouse. Eric's character I created long long ago, and he is mine.**

* * *

III

Arthur's cloak draped around her, Morgana sighed. After her admission the previous night, he had just shut his mouth, and looked silently at her for a long hurtful moment, before leaving without a good night. She knew him well enough to recognize furor and hurt. She didn't need any power to read the stormy feelings in his ice-blue stare. She let him go. She had stayed alone in the dark, craving with the need to comfort him. He would not have accepted it. So she stayed put, feeling miserable and ashamed. Then exhaustion had hit her, overpowering guilt, and she had finally fallen asleep. She didn't dream.

She felt rested this morning, if not ready to face Arthur just yet. So she was seated by the window, contemplating the sunny day before her, breathing courage in the gorgeous sight. Her memories of her homeland and the landscape above were so much alike. The grass was overlapping rocky grey cliffs above the sea. Eric had said the Castle was still here. She wanted to see it.

The resolute knock on the door brought her out of her day-dream. A teenage girl entered the room. The burst of energy which accompanied her ripped apart the rest of her reverie.

"Hello there. I'm Claudia Donovan… Can I call you Morgana? I couldn't believe Eric when he called me… Do you really come from Camelot? Oh. My. God. This is so cool…"

Morgana tried not to gawk. The girl was about her height, clasped in skinny pants and God knew how many layers of shirt, and could have been considered as pretty if her medium-length straight hair hadn't been strained with purple and red drills. Probably in this world, the fashion was to flashy clothes, extravagant hairdos and too much make-up. The girl, Claudia, beamed at her, and handed a load of clothes.

"Here. You need to get dressed; breakfast is almost ready. Eric, Josh and Prince Charming are already downstairs. We're about the same size, so they should fit. Wow…"

She stopped talking to ogle at Morgana's blue dress. Morgana examined her new wardrobe quickly, and retreat in the adjacent bathroom to change. The undergarments were delicate; she played a minute with the thin fabric before putting them on. Despite their novelty, the clothes were very comfortable. She glanced at her image in the mirror. The slack pants were far more fitting that the breeches she borrowed from Merlin sometimes, but they fell nicely over her hips and her legs. She was perfectly at ease walking in them. The shirt she put over her head and her smile widened. It was perfect. Sculpting, with a neck-line just low enough; the cream color suited her. She pulled her hair in a loose knot, the best she could come up without a brush and Gwen's help.

"You're beautiful."

Claudia was looking at her with admiration. Morgana smiled at her new friend:

"Thank you. Didn't you say something about breakfast?"

Three men were seated at a high table. Arthur stood up as soon as she entered the room, imitated by the two others. A little surprised, Morgana looked around. Apparently, in the future, people took their meals in the kitchen. She had visited the kitchens of Camelot often, to sneak food when she was a child, or later to see to the general organization of the royal household, to pick up baskets for her charities. But they were nothing like this one. In Camelot, the kitchens were always busy with cooks, helpers and servants. The two enormous chimneys had permanent fire roaring, ready for cooking. The long tables were always covered with food, plates, cooking tools or dishes. This room was quiet; counters along the walls replaced the working tables. The dishes were stored in glass-door cabinets hanging on the walls. She could not see a fire and wondered how they cooked the food. Morgana spotted a saucepan on a gleaming surface and a system similar to the one of the bathroom for water. This world was fascinating…

"Good day, My Lady."

"Morgana. Please. I am no Lady here, nor Arthur is a Prince."

Her reply owned her a frown from Arthur, but he didn't protest. Apparently, his night hadn't been peaceful. He had his bad-hair day pout on him. Morgana examined him, unwilling to give in to guilt again. The clothes, probably borrowed from Eric or the other man, gave him a strange aspect. He had blue pants, which looked both solid and comfortable, and a green collarless shirt. He hadn't shaved; a beard-shadow darkening his chin and his jaws. The overall effect was… pleasant. She had forgotten how handsome he was; when his intolerable ego didn't come in the way. Morgana smiled at him, and sat at the table, reporting her attention to breakfast. Claudia was already babbling about the food, speaking so fast she had trouble following her.

"These are French toast, bread coated with milk and eggs and paned. If you prefer, I can make you regular toast or oatmeal like Eric. Joshua, that's my brother, by the way, is having bagel with cottage cheese and fruits. Do you want tea?"

Joshua gave her a welcome smile.

"Slow down, Claudia, you're giving me and our guests a headache. Nice to meet you, Morgana. We have coffee too, but I suggest you don't try it, coffee can be hard on the stomach, especially Eric's."

Joshua had frank brown eyes and dark air, with the same charm that his little sister. He seemed just as energetic, but in a calmer way. Half seduced, Morgana smiled back :

"Tea would be perfect, thank you. Don't trouble yourself for me, Claudia, the… French toast? Look delicious."

She laughed a little when her first attempt at picking a bite failed. The fork and knife were much lighter than the heavy silver cutlery they used in Camelot. The tea was hot and fragrant. Arthur seemed to relax a little after she ate half her toast. Apparently, he had settled on fruit and cheese, with regular bread. If you could call regular the spongy little slices future bread looked like.

Their new friends kept conversation light and easy for them to understand. Claudia did most of the talking, pointing at objects at random and explaining their function: a fridge, to keep food at a cool temperature and preservation; a stove for cooking (no fire), a coffee machine. A lot of instruments seemed to be powered like the glass balls, by e-lec-tri-ci-ty.

"What do you do when power fails?"

Claudia burst out laughing.

"Well, I cry and they –she pointed the men- take out the camping material."

"I do camp."

Arthur's intervention owned him vigorous approval from Eric and Joshua. Claudia shook her head, and exchanged a knowing glance with Morgana. Apparently, sleeping on the ground, without proper facilities to wash, and eating overcooked meat was a guy thing, whatever the era.

"Now, we go shopping. You need clothes, and some basics stuff."

The guys exchanged a painful look. Let it to women to like shopping, whatever the century.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

When Eric talked about a car, Arthur frowned. Did his host meant cart? Carts were for women with children, and old men; carts were loaded with straw or market products and pulled by cattle. Carts didn't suit knights, let alone royalty.

But cars were nothing like that. Cars were metal and shiny and… awesome. He turned around it, examining the lines and the wheels. This… machine looked powerful. It had glasses all around, small funny mirrors on each side, and glass balls in front (white) and rear (red). Eric pushed a button and the car biped then roared. The sound was fantastic, strong, and smooth. That car was purring like a big cat (or a satisfied woman). Joshua explained about horsepower. Arthur gave a appreciate nod. A comparison with horses he could understand.

Claudia sighed dramatically.

"Should have known… You can't let my brother around anything with a motor or you lost him for hours. And this one is Eric's new toy, so he's just as bad. I love them really I do, except when they spent hours gawking about a stupid car! Guys!"

Joshua climbed in the back with the women. Arthur took the front seat. He liked cars. Cars were power and speed. The landscape around them was moving so fast he had to focus on the road so his head didn't spin. Even his father's best stallion wasn't that quick. And it seemed a lot of people had cars! They passed numerous others, with brash colours and various shapes. He even liked the smell of it; it was aggressive and sour, just like horses. He was nearly forgetting about his lack of a proper weapon. Cars were fantastic.

They arrived in front of a huge building of steel and brick. Eric parked in row with other cars, and they proceeded to the entrance. Claudia looked at her wrist to a round shape bracelet.

"It's about eleven. Let's meet at Oliver's around four. You're taking care of Arthur and…"

"We're not separating."

Arthur took a step forward to stand between Morgana and the tall revolving doors. He was not worried about her. Simply, he was not letting her out of his sight. Not a in a long way. She took his hand of her arm.

"Arthur, I'll be fine. You go with Eric and Joshua, and Claudia and I will have fun on our own."

"No."

His commanding tone made her want to stamp her foot. He ignored her all morning for food and cars and now he was playing the guardian act? This was intolerable!

"Stop acting like a child!"

"Morgana, we don't know this place…"

He meant they didn't know their hosts. How arrogant! She shot him a warning look, lost to his pouting. Eric cut in, sensing the argument cooking up between the two:

"What about Claudia and the two of you go buy some clothes, while Joshua and I take care of the day-to-day stuff, toothbrushes and the like?"

Arthur relaxed a little.

"Thank you for your understanding."

Joshua laughed:

"I'm not sure you'll be that thankful in two hours… Have fun!"

They walked through the doors. Morgana retained Eric a minute.

"Eric, please take this…"

"Morgana, no…"

He tried to put the necklace back into her hands, but Morgana refused to take it back.

"If you don't want it, help me sell it. We will need the money. Please…"

Eric stared at her proud face for a second. The resolve was clear enough.

"Fine. I know a jeweller in London that will give you a fair price for it. But in the meantime, you accept our help."

"Thank you."

Claudia was jostling, eager to move.

"So, who's first?"

"Him."

Suddenly, Arthur doubted he had made a good choice. Clothes shopping with two women? This was definitely something he was never ever going to tell Merlin.

* * *

Morgana savoured every minute of it. Using Arthur as a doll was enjoyable, especially given he was so determined to endure it in (relative) silence. At the moment, Claudia was torturing him with a deep pink shirt:

"I won't wear that, forget it."

"Pink is cool! Men can wear pink. That proves they are beyond the stereotypes."

"No way."

"Arthur, come on, be a good sport."

"Forget it."

Morgana could guess what a 'good sport' was well enough. The notion had never applied to Arthur, anyway. He was casting glances her way now. She beamed at him. His look turned from beseeching to hostile. She nearly blew out a kiss to him. Claudia abandoned the pink for a more conservative navy colour.

"Okay, okay, try this one instead. It's boring so you will adore it. Try the jeans too."

"And this."

Morgana handed Arthur a pair of black pants and a shirt. He sighed. How many pieces did they need anyway? Surely they were to find a way back within the week… He glimpsed at himself in the mirror. He had to admit, Morgana had good taste. The pants and shirt fitted perfectly.

"Arthur do you need a belt? I guess not…"

Morgana pouted, refusing to blush while she inspected him from head to toes. The clothes borrowed from Joshua looked good on him, but this was better. The tailored shirt was loose enough for him to be comfortable, but tight enough for her to appreciate how years of training had hardened his shoulders and his chest. The black pants only added to the whole effect, accentuating the strength of his legs and his perfect waist and…

"Wow, you're hot."

Yes, thought Morgana. Claudia had exactly the right word; he was more than good-looking, he was strong and becoming and his body under her fingers was warm and… When she remembered to think, she was arranging his collar around his neck. Arthur repressed a sneer. Was it a flash of appreciation he caught in her eyes?

Morgana took a quick step back, cocking her head on one side, annoyed.

"This will do, I suppose."

Claudia was still going, apparently obvious to her time-looping.

"Morgana, I know the perfect shop for you so if Arthur is done we…"

"I'll be done as soon as the two of you give me some privacy to change…"

"Don't be so prickly. Is he always like that?"

"Most of the time. Sometimes he's bragging too…"

Arthur growled and Claudia burst out laughing.

Morgana let the teen drag her out of the dressing room. She liked her. Claudia reminded her of Gwen; without the self-consciousness. She was turbulent, she was smart and she was funny. Plus, Claudia had a solid sense of humour (which some prince definitely lacked) and was giving Arthur a hard time. Yeah, Morgana really liked the girl.

"Oh, shit, I nearly forgot! This way…"

Claudia towed them in the opposite direction.

Morgana flushed as soon as they faced the next shop. Fake bodies were presented undergarments for men and women.

"You must be kidding."

"Well, we need underwear, Arthur."

"You're absolutely not..."

Sweet Lord, was he blushing? This was getting better by the minute.

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to show how they do. I've seen enough thank you."

"I'm not talking about me, Morgana. This is indecent."

He was pointing at the mannequins; the female formed mannequins. Her cheek grew warm. He was not picturing her in that, was he? She glanced quickly his way. Oh God. He WAS having images of her in those spidery things. How embarrassing! And of course, now she was dying to try them on. What was wrong with her today!

"That's exactly why we should have gone separate ways. You wait here, and I forbid you to follow me!"

She took the arm of a giggling Claudia, and spun, ignoring his furious frown superbly.

"He's such a brat."

"He looks quite grown up to me… You'll need night shirt too."

"I like those!"

The night-shirts Morgana pointed seemed completely out of character for her. She picked up a white tee-shirt with a white dog with black ears, whose nose was so round it was almost comical. The dog was sleeping on his dog-house with a yellow bird peeping at his feet; the print read: 'Forget it, I'm not moving.'

"Why is this dog on all these?"

Claudia stayed silent for a full twenty seconds, thoughtful. How do you explain Comics to someone who read scrolls?

"It's Peanuts, a Classic. I'll show you, Eric's a fan; he got some at home. What do you think of this one?"

She presented Morgana a black one, with a broad-smiling Snoopy. The all-teeth grin was underlined by a silvery line: 'behind the smile is something you'll never put your hands on.'

"Perfect. Where are we going now?"

"Arthur is full-equipped, so it's your turn. I told you, I know exactly where to go, you're going to love it."

Arthur sighed. Morgana had tried on all the pieces of this shop, some probably twice. Claudia and she were having the time of their life with the help of a clerk. His first (and only) intervention had owned him a murderous glance, and now he was leaning on a wall, waiting. A boy with hair spiking and rings at every finger offered a drink. He refused. The liquid inside the bottle had a strange blue colour he was not sure about.

"Arthur?"

He looked up; big mistake. He should have kept his eyes up all along. Now, his stare was travelling up miles of bare skin, of creamy smooth enticing bare-skin, to a ridiculously short skirt (the thing ended well above her knees, for Christ-sake! She really had lovely knees). The outfit was dark purple, the colour he preferred on her, even if she insisted he loved red. He did love red. But purple was... He forced his eyes higher, to her neckline, then her face. She was smiling.

"I like it. What do you think?"

He had to tell her no, it didn't suit her; it didn't make her mouth-watering; just no. Her smile widened somehow. He gulped. Could she read mind, too? He was probably goggling like an idiot, anyway… He was losing ground, fast.

"Well, it's… short. Even the waitresses at the low-town tavern are more covered."

Morgana frowned at the exasperated tone.

"In no way I'm going to allow my father's ward to…"

Her smile disappeared completely.

"It's a very good thing I don't need your approval, then."

"Morgana, this is unacceptable..."

"Look around you, Arthur, women wear skirts even more…"

"But they're not quite as beau…"

He bit back the rest of his sentence.

"Quite as what, Arthur?"

She seemed pleased by the unfinished compliment. More probably she was waiting for the final word, ready to twist the words, and him with it. He ran one hand in his hair, his temper shortening as quickly as her amused smile was growing.

"This is unacceptable. Period."

Claudia pocked at him.

"You're really a case, you know. Morgana, you're stunning, you must take it. Are the jeans okay?"

"They're too tight, I need a size up. The blouses are good."

"Okay, here you are. Arthur you're in my way. Do you mind?"

He could not remember approaching her. Turning tail, Arthur walked to the door to watch at the exotic crowd in the alleys. He heard the girls giggled behind his back. The sooner they found a way back to Camelot, the better. The beautiful Ice-Lady of Camelot he could handle. Morgana, playful, carefree Morgana, was stirring his blood way too easily.


	5. Chapter 5

V

Morgana renounced showing off anything else after their argument. Still he could see a glint of amusement in her eyes when they finally proceed to the cashier.

It intrigued her, how Claudia handed a small rigid card to the clerk in each shop they went. She guessed it was some kind of payment, but the card was returned, intact, every time. All Claudia had to do was to sign some thin paper to get it back. Curiosity beat the discomfort of not paying themselves for their clothes. Pointing at the card, she asked:

"What is this thing?"

Claudia stuffed the card back in her wallet.

"VISA."

"Fizzle?"

"Not fizzle, VISA. A credit card. Now you're going to ask what a credit card is. It's money. Sort of. You sign a receipt and the shop is paid directly by the bank. I guess for someone using only coins, not even paper, the concept was probably odd. A bank is some kind of usurer."

Arthur frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. Claudia was still speaking:

"A bank keeps your money for you, and gives you cards like this one so when you need to buy something, you just have to sign your receipt to confirm you purchase the item and the bank uses your money to pay for it."

"Oh. That's handy." applauded Morgana.

Arthur didn't look convince. Claudia towed them out of the shop, under the curious glance of the clerk.

" I'm sure Eric and Josh are already done. We're going to meet them now, okay? My sugar rate is getting low and…"

"Sure."

Arthur cut her short. He had no idea what a sugar rate was, but finding Joshua and Eric meant being done with the shopping, which was just fine with him. He picked up some bags. Why those people didn't have servants to carry things? Of course, Merlin would drop everything at least twice on the way. He glimpsed toward Morgana. She was bouncing around, acting nearly childish, pointing at every new discovery and gaping. It's been a while since he saw her that relaxed and happy. At least that was something to cheer on, to have her back for a little while…

"Here they are… Josh!"

Claudia ran to her brother, surrounding him with two arms to kiss him noisily. Morgana chuckled.

"I like her."

"Of course you do. She takes you shopping and she helps you torturing me. What's not to like?"

"Ha ha. You deserved everything."

Flashes of red lace and purple fabric crossed his mind. Arthur gripped the handle of his packages more firmly. He smirked in order to keep himself from flushing.

"We could have done worse, Arthur."

Her voice was serious. He didn't want to her to close up again.

"I know."

She hesitated. They'd been denying friendship for so long; it seemed against the rules to be comfortable with one another once more. Yet, it was very tempting to poke fun at him, with his uncertain smile and his arms otherwise occupied so he couldn't defend himself.

"We can bring the lot to the car first if you like."

She turned toward Eric's tranquil voice with a beautiful smile, greeting him. Arthur only nodded.

"I'll take that."

"Thank you."

She hadn't thanked him. The thought was disturbing.

"Sire?"

"Arthur. Please."

The pang of pleasure in his chest at her favorable nod bothered him even more. She was already joining Claudia and Joshua inside the restaurant. He followed Eric.

"Morgana – Arthur winced at the familiarity- unleashed some very powerful magic to bring you here."

"It was an accident. She didn't mean to send us here."

Eric closed the trunk carefully. He understood the meaning underlying in Arthur's answer. Morgana, with or without her powers, might not be able to back-track.

"She must care a great deal about you to have reacted like that."

"She was terrorized by a nightmare."

He was not to discuss his relationship with Morgana with a stranger, even helpful and friendly. Eric dropped the subject.

"Joshua and I gave a couple of phone calls, while waiting for you."

Arthur didn't try to guess what a phone was. However, Eric's solemn tone made it sound important. He listened.

"Claudia and Joshua are associated with the Warehouse and have access to all sorts of artifacts. That's why I asked for their help in the first place. With the Warehouse's resources, we hope to be able to find something to take you back. It may take a couple of days, though. You're my hosts, in the meantime."

"Thank you."

"I want you to take that back. Morgana asked me to sell it, but…"

Arthur looked at the necklace Eric was handing.

"She was right. We're grateful for your help, but charity is unacceptable."

Eric repressed a smile. The prince and the beautiful witch were just as stubborn. His memory took him back to another time, another place, with different people, equally stubborn and just as well-matched.

Arthur was offering his hand. Eric grabbed his wrist in the traditional knight check.

* * *

The list of plates (menu, Claudia had called it) was glossy with images of food, colorful and shiny.

"What are these?" asked Morgana, pointing at the images.

"Photos. Like instant portrait. Wait a sec'."

Claudia picked up some small metallic box in her back-pocket, and pointed it at Morgana. Then she handed it for her to watch.

"Oh…"

Her immobile face on the small frame had the clarity of a mirror reflect. She touched her own face, and felt foolish for it.

"Arthur look!"

Her enthusiasm had her stumble with her chair. He released her as soon as she was steady again. His arm was circling her too easily for comfort.

Arthur examined her finding. The frozen reflect was unsettling. Even in her haughtiest moments, Morgana was more alive than this portrait. He handed it back to Claudia and sat without a word.

His unmoved attitude annoyed Morgana, who half-turned from him to pick at the various plates Eric and Joshua had ordered. Claudia was already digging in, and detailing everything.

"These are bruschettas, bread with seasoned tomatoes; you've got hot goat cheese, carpaccio, that's very thin slices of raw meat, I love it. This is tapenade, Joshua's favorite: black olives with capers mixed in olive oil. You know what olives are, don't you? Okay. This is young leafs salad with Italian dressing. Italy is a country, in the South of Europe. Europe… Okay, forget it. These are mini-pizzas, bread crust with tomatoes paste, mushrooms, onions and peppers. Please, tell me that's not anchovy. I hate anchovy. Here are prosciutto and zucchini…"

She had lost her after the third one. The scents were delicious, and she tried a bit of each plate, enjoying the food and the company. Arthur remained silent, nibbling at some bruschetta, his wine (chianti?) nearly untouched. She offered some cheese, but he refused. Morgana glared.

"Can't you lighten up a little?"

"Sorry; I'm just tired."

Her expression softened, but not for long.

"I'd be careful with that if I were you. Your stomach is not used to the food."

"Quite the patronizing tone Arthur, will you?"

"I'm just saying…"

"Oh, drop it. You can't enjoy yourself if you're not harassing someone anyway."

Morgana ignored his darkening stare and let herself be enchanted by Claudia's perpetual babbling. Arthur shook his head, sipping his wine. Was she mad at him now? The Chianti felt hard on his tongue. He was just trying to warn her, show concern… How could one turn from angelic to a harpy that fast? The woman was impossible. Arthur wondered how long it would take for that Warehouse's to find a solution. He wanted his life back.

* * *

**A/N : Please don't favorite/alert without reviewing :)**


	6. Chapter 6

VI

The landscape was running fast before her. The movement, added to the perpetual cradling of the car, was making her vaguely nauseous. Maybe she should have listen to Arthur about the food.

Morgana turned from the window to look at her companions. Claudia was installed in the middle, bent forward to talk to her brother seated in the front. On the opposite side, Arthur was sleeping, his head propped against the back-seat. He had shadows under his eyes, and he really needed a shave now. He'd been even more taciturn at dinner after she rebuffed him. She felt a little bad. He did really look tired.

It was all his fault anyway. He always managed to bring the worst out of her. Watching over the others was part of him, but he had the most maladroit way to show he cared. Idiot. She liked him best when he slept. He looked innocent then; and approachable. When he was sleeping he could not catch her staring; or annoy her with some scathing comment; and he could not run into trouble.

The car hit a pothole and the small chaos woke him. Still drowsy, his eyes lingered on her a second and he smiled before he drifted into sleep again. Yes, she liked him best when he slept.

Morgana closed her eyes in turn, pushing Arthur out of her thoughts. It was so good to feel sane again, whole again. It was so good to breath without nasty murmurs turning into ferocious headaches or horrible nightmares. She was free to enjoy company without fearing to make a fatal misstep, or looked like a mad-woman. Would it be that bad, if they were stuck here? Here, she could be Morgana; just Morgana.

* * *

Claudia promised to come by the next day, for Eric had work. Morgana put away her things and examined the toilet items Eric and Joshua had purchased. The hairbrush was nice. The toothpaste (_you put some paste on your teeth?_) had a stinging fresh taste. The shampoo smelt of roses and citrus. Claudia had added a last-minute feminine touch, make-up and –she still felt ill-at-ease about that- period protections (just in case!).

She wondered how Arthur was doing with the shaving. The razor Eric had provided was ridiculously small and fragile. Disposable, they had called it. Curious, she knocked on his door.

"Come in."

"How is it going?"

He was nearly finished, only inches of his face covered with some fluffy cream. She installed herself on the side of the bath while Arthur whipped the rest of it swiftly.

"Easy enough."

He splashed fresh water on his skin; Morgana handed him a towel.

"Thanks."

He looked like himself again with his skin bare and smooth. Morgana picked up a small bottle labelled after-shave and brought it to her nose. The scent was glorious, spices and amber. She closed her eyes to indulge into it.

"Do you mind?"

Arthur picked up the bottle out of her hand, and winced with he applied the gel on his raw skin.

"It burns."

Morgana didn't reply to his surprised complain, still lost in the scent from the product. On him, it smelled like a late summer day, comfortable and hot. Morgana walked away and started to fumble with the clothes discarded on the bed and on the table to focus on something else.

"You don't have to do that."

"As if you could clean your room by yourself without Merlin."

She folded expertly the shirts and laughed at some strange looking short pants.

"That's odd."

"Probably as much as your night-shirt."

She had chosen her 'behind that smile' Snoopy shirt. She smiled. The statement was provocative for any healthy male. He was no different. Arthur finished put away his stuff, and sat near her on the bed.

"What's on your mind, Morgana?"

"I had fun today."

"I don't doubt that."

He was smiling, despite the pompous comment, so she simply overlooked the bait.

"I mean, I won't mind stay here."

Arthur turned his head sharply to her, teasing gone.

"You can't be serious."

"Why? I'm free here. I can be myself. I don't have to be scared all the time."

"But this is not home."

"Camelot is your home, not mine. Not anymore."

"Please don't say that."

"Arthur, how do you think Uther is going to react when he'll discover what I am?"

"I won't let anything happen to you."

It was only natural to lean on his shoulder, and slip her hand in his. Arthur stayed silent, because he knew trying to reason her would only end in an argument, and he didn't want to fight. He looked at their entwined fingers for a moment. Holding her hand, holding her, felt right. Morgana stood up.

"You must be tired. I should let you go to bed."

He let go of her hand slowly; she was escaping him again.

"Sweet dreams, Arthur."

Her kiss on his forehead was fresh, if not reassuring.

* * *

She dreamt of him again. It was not a nightmare, not exactly. But the loneliness and fatigue radiating from him was painful. He was standing in a vast room she didn't recognize. It looked a bit like Camelot Court Room, but slightly different. The walls were bare of the Pendragon banners. The three thrones, the King, and theirs, were gone, as well as the armours and the decoration.

In front of him was a huge pedestal table, completely round. She counted twelve chairs, including the one he was holding on to. Coats of arms were carved in the wood top of the table. She recognized the dragon, in front of him. To his left she could see the falcon of Cornwall, the heraldry of her cousin Tristan. The swan on his right she didn't know.

Arthur was staring at the central piece, a simple cup. It looked old, but it was glowing. She wanted to have a better view of it, but the image faded and disappeared completely. The sob that escaped Arthur brought her attention back to him. He was older, maybe by fifteen or twenty years. He had grown a beard, and the crown on his head just added to the power pouring from him.

The Arthur of her dream ran a hand on his face, the same familiar gesture, and she spotted a small purple token on his wrist. He looked so sad. Why was he crying? It broke her heart to see him like this. She wanted to comfort him, to smooth the obvious pain away. She murmured his name, but no sound echoed in the empty room.

Morgana turned in her sleep, trying to reach for him; the scene vanished, and she didn't hear him call her name.


	7. Chapter 7

VII

Old habits still died hard as Arthur woke up at dawn the next morning. The house was silent, and he stayed in bed a moment, lying on his back. He was edgy. Something was lurking in the back of his mind, bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. After a while, he got up, dressed and picked up his sword.

The terrace behind the house was spacious and protected by tall trees. The sun was still to rise. The air was a bit chilly, but Arthur didn't mind. Taking the hilt of his weapon with both hands, he lifted it above his head, and started practicing. His body protested after nearly two days of complete inactivity.

It took a while before his shoulders and his arms warmed up so he felt comfortable with the exercise. Physical effort was a relief. Moving, hitting, sparing was easy, like a second nature. He was born to fight, to watch over Camelot and to rule it. Morgana had taken that from him.

A little breathless and vaguely depressed, Arthur let down his blade. He had to find a way back. His place was in Camelot. He _had_ to get back. But Morgana didn't want to go. He rubbed one hand over his face. Morgana had no obligations to Camelot but her good will. She ran the household, filling the duty of the First Lady. She chaired feasts or enhanced tournament winners with her praise to please his father; One day, his father was to dispose of her, marrying her off for some strategic alliance even he, Arthur, would find nothing to object to. He resumed his training to fight the sting of cold air.

Married to some foreign lord, she would be safe. And he could summon her to the Court, had her visit sometimes. If she stayed here, he would lose her forever. He accelerated the movements, adding parades and lunges to the original simple ballet. For minutes, he stopped thinking, entirely dedicated to the exercise. Sweat was damping the back of his shirt now.

Arthur was unsure what caused the pounding in his chest, the work-out or the conflicted emotions he felt for Morgana. She was nothing like Gwen; sweet, lovely Guinevere. He loved Gwen. Morgana was complicated. She was hard. She was passionate. She was his match in every way. Gwen was nice, and cute; Gwen had lifted the enchantment over Vivian; Gwen was his true love; he remembered her cute lavender dress, one of Morgana's old pieces of clothing. He still could smell her perfume, peaches and orchids, a scent Morgana loves too. He had kissed Gwen, and tasted Morgana.

"Arthur?"

He turned brutally, gripping his sword as to his own life. She was incredibly beautiful, draped in his cloak, bare-foot in the grass with her long wavy hair flowing on her shoulders. Oh God. He was in love with Morgana.

Arthur took a step back. He could nearly hear Merlin laughing at him. _'About time you realize that_…' Hearing his own voice surprised him; he had forgotten what words were.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

She walked to him and he took another step back. Confusion flashed in her green eyes, but she stayed still. He talked again before she asked.

"I just needed to move. I need to stay fit, or no one will believe our story of your rescue when we come back."

When, not if; our story; he insisted on the 'we'. He needed to know she would always be within his reach, even if it was condemning her to a lifetime of nightmares and fear, or a mismatching marriage. He was selfish. So what? She accused him of being so often enough.

"You didn't…"

Arthur authorized himself to drown in her fascinating stare.

"What?"

"You didn't wake me up. I was awake already. I'll ask Claudia to visit the Castle today. Will you join us?"

"If you like."

He was nearly barking his brief answers. Morgana stopped him by the arm when he walked by her. Her fingers on him were burning.

"You don't need to act like a jerk to make me feel bad. I told you I was sorry. I just wanted…"

"To protect me. Yeah, I got that part."

She didn't let go of his arm, her cheeks coloring on temper. He didn't care for maddening her. Maybe if she yelled at him, wiped him off like dust on her clothes, the beating will put him out of his fantasy, misery, whatever. He tried to focus on her speech, rather than her lips moving.

"… Do you think it's easy for me Arthur? I see you hurt, or dead, every other night. I see Camelot burning to the ground. Do you think it was easy to witness all I care for being destroyed night after night, and not being able to warn you about it?"

Arthur kept his mouth firmly shut. She cared for him. She had unclenched her fingers from his shirt but her stormy green eyes fixed on him were grounding him. She was so clearly upset he gave in, and cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the soft skin gently. She cared for him. The gesture calmed her. He dropped his hand when Morgana closed her eyes to the warm of his caress.

"You're going to freeze if you stay here. Come back inside."

She nodded, and let him escort her into the house.

He was helplessly in love with the only woman he could not have. Now he had a problem; another one; a major one.

* * *

They followed the other tourists (Claudia didn't fully explain the word) along the walls to the former Great Hall. Morgana breathed slowly**,** fighting a twist of pain in her heart. Eric had warned them, that things might look different. Tintagel's fortress had lost its impressive majesty. The gardens were wild with bushes now. The rampages were ruined. Only a few original walls stood from the castle. But it was still beautiful. The view over the sea was exactly what she remembered.

The guide was delivering his speech, and one name picked up her interest.

"… her sister Morgause. Arthur provoked her furor when he rejected her. She avenged on the worst way. She knew of Queen Guinevere and Lancelot's mutual attraction, and enhanced it, pushing them to adultery… The betrayal destroyed Arthur and his dream of a perfect world. Without his faith, the kingdom broke into pieces, and Camelot disappeared. But…"

Morgana felt the shockwave before she saw his face. A vicious cramp forced her to grip Claudia's shoulder before she fell on her knees. Unable to stand straight, she pressed her hands to her stomach. The air was so thick and it was so hard to breathe.

"Wow, what's happening to you? Arthur! Morgana… Arthur!"

Claudia was talking but the noises in her head were muffling the sound of her voice. She was cold. She was feverish. Her heart was braking. Not, not her heart… His! Morgana fought the darkness invading her to watch his tall figure approaching. He was white as a sheet. Claudia held out her hand to him.

"You look terrible too… Oh God, I hope it's not some post-effect of your time-trip… Morgana, sit down. I'm calling Eric… No, first, we need to go home, I'll call him afterward. Stay here, I'll get some help. No, better you come with me… Oh my God… Morgana, can you walk?"

"Claudia."

How did she manage to sound so calm? She wanted to scream. It hurt, oh it hurt.

"Go. I just need a minute. We'll be fine. Go."

"You're sure? Fine, I'll be right back."

The young woman obeyed and ran down the path to the exit.

Morgana sat on a boulder before her shaking legs gave in under her. His pupils were so dilated she could barely see the blue of his eyes. It burned her to ashes. His emotions were thrusting into her, filling her up with despair, pain. There was so much anger…

"Arthur, please…"

Her stomach revolted. Another fierce wave hit her, and she inhaled sharply. Breathing was excruciating. Nausea burned her throat. The pain was unbearable, like a white hot blade piercing her heart. Couldn't he see he was killing her?

"Arthur, stop!"

She grabbed him; he didn't flinch when her fingers bit into his arms. His thoughts were echoing in her head, bouncing against hers. He was so angry, so lost. He was scared; scared to fail, eager to please, lonely so lonely. She was disappearing under his feelings, barely a spark, vanishing into emptiness. She moaned, unable to muffle the sound.

The turmoil inside her withdrew slowly. The wrath turned into sadness and guilt. Morgana unfastened her hands from him; her head was spinning. Arthur closed his arms around her to scoop her up. She rested her fore-head on his chest, exhausted. Her magic was linked to him. She had always known, deep inside, that it was.

"Let's go out of here."

She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to face the consequences. She just listened to the beat of his heart as it calmed down, and let him carried her away.

* * *

**A/N : Forget it... You can't escape the green button... **


	8. Chapter 8

VIII

Arthur busied himself with the fire to avoid looking at the pale woman on the couch. Arranging the logs was something real, something he could touch, something solid. What happened at Tintagel Castle was impossible. The revelation of his future, his faith, had perturbed him so much, angered him so much, he had lost control of his emotions. He had pushed everything to her, and she had taken it into her. She had accepted it all, maybe because he needed her to. The shock had nearly crushed her.

Ashamed, Arthur could feel her eyes on his back now, but he didn't turn when asking.

"What happened up here?"

"I… I never felt you like that before."

Her answer made no sense.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Arthur..."

She trailed off, as Claudia came in, bringing tea. Arthur turned to her, still unable to look at Morgana. There were more answers he needed.

"Is it true? What the guide said? Is it how it's going to end?"

'_I'll end up alone and heart-broken, my wife betraying me and my kingdom falling into pieces? Why?'_

"Huh…"

For once, Claudia was speechless. She put down her tread and walked to the shelves, picking up a book. She showed the title, but the words were foreign to him.

"The Knights of the Round Table, by Chrétien de Troyes. Oh God… Eric will be here soon, can't we wait for him?"

"Claudia… Tell us… Please."

Morgana's begging brought Arthur to her, finally and he sat down near her on the couch. He was not ready to hear the whole thing. He didn't want to hear it. He had to hear the whole farce. He had to know. Her hand was cold in his despite the warm of the fire. Claudia took the facing chair.

"Don't take it the wrong way, okay? For us, that's legends; myths. King Arthur and Morgana Le Fay. Queen Guinevere and Lancelot. Merlin. The legend says that Merlin helped Uther Pendragon to bed Igraine while her husband, Gorlois, was away."

"That's ridiculous. Gorlois is Morgana's father and Merlin is younger than I and…"

Morgana squeezed his hand and he shut up. Claudia went on, sighing.

"Some usurper killed them both and Merlin fostered their new-born baby to a faithful knight, Sir Hector. Hector took care of Arthur, you, sorry, this is confusing. Where was I? Hum… Hector upheld Arthur as his own son, until he could claim his title. He did so by taking a magical sword out of a stone, the Sword Excalibur. Then he became king and married Guinevere, the daughter of Leodagan from Carmelid. King Arthur restored peace and well-being to the kingdom of Camelot. He created the order of the Knights of the Round Table. Everyone worth to sit at the table was a mighty knight, a true knight, equal to the King himself. But Arthur's step-sister by Igraine…"

He tensed again, but kept silent.

"…became jealous of his power. Morgana or Morgause, the name is unclear, seduced him with magic, before revealing their sibling. He banished her, and she decided to punish him by taking everything from him. She pushed Guinevere and Lancelot to adultery, which apparently was not that difficult, because they were in love with each other anyway. Arthur was forced to condemn her to the pyre. Here, the story becomes mixed up. Some says Lancelot killed Arthur when he came to save the Queen. Other says Arthur couldn't kill his wife, and exiled her, and that he was killed later by his incestuous son Mordred."

Arthur and Morgana exchanged a glance at the name. They knew the characters. They were the characters. But their life was so different… Uther was still alive; they were not siblings; Guinevere was a maid, not a princess. Merlin was not a mastermind pulling the ropes for politics. But Lancelot was in love with Gwen and she looked at him like her champion. And Morgause…

Morgana gently touched the back of his fisted hand, so he relaxed his crushing grip on her fingers.

"And me?"

"Well, sometimes King Arthur's witch sister is called Morgause, sometimes it's Morgana. All we know for sure is that Morgana is a powerful enchantress and she takes Arthur with her in Avalon when he's dying."

Claudia got up to serve the tea. Morgana tried to find Arthur's stare but he was avoiding hers again, careful to keep his feelings for himself. Then she remembered her dream.

"Claudia, does the legend talks about a cup? A glowing cup Arthur possesses?"

"The Holy Grail. But King Arthur never had it."

They turned to Eric and Joshua. Claudia crashed in her brother's arms with relief. Eric took the forgotten book on the coffee table, and looked at it for a minute before putting it back into place on the shelves.

"The Knights of Arthur had a quest. They were looking for the Holy Grail. Lancelot and Percival nearly found it, but they failed the last test. Lancelot's son, Galaad, succeeded in finding the Grail, but he died when he looked into it. The Grail is said to be the cup the Christ used for his last supper. Why Arthur wanted the Grail, no one knows."

"I saw it. The cup was in the center of a round table in Camelot. And you…"

Morgana touched Arthur's face lightly. He had been so sad in her dream. Arthur backed off, uneasy.

"You were looking at it. You wanted the cup to give you something. To give something back; something you had lost."

"Nonsense."

He stood up. This was just plain crap, bullshit. He felt strung up. Unsure if the shaking in his legs were from numbness or nerves, he started pacing then stopped abruptly. Images were running fast in his head. Gwen and Lancelot in the forest after her rescue; his mother's vaporous form; Morgana's foreseeing of the future; possible futures he automatically corrected. Lost in thought, he vaguely heard Eric's talk about a girl who had the power of time-travelling, and chose to stay behind with his cousin. He knew Magic exist. He had seen enough to accept it. But those stories, those Legends, were exactly that, legends, bard tales.

His parents were married and loved each other long BEFORE he was born. Mordred was just a druid boy, not his SON. Morgause was not his sister. Merlin was just a clumsy servant. And he fully intended to keep his future queen happy and satisfied in every way, nobleness or not. He swallowed, feeling trapped.

"I need some air."

Arthur exited the room. Morgana moved to follow him, but Eric stopped her.

"Give him some time. It's hard to accept that maybe you won't have a happy ever after."


	9. Chapter 9

IX

He half expected Morgana or Eric to join him on the terrace. Surprisingly, Joshua showed up, with two glasses full of a golden liquid. He handed one, clinking his own with Arthur's.

"Cheers."

Arthur nodded. The alcohol was strong, and burned his throat, before warming the tense knots within his stomach. He released a long sigh he hadn't realized he was holding. Joshua was standing in silence, looking at the gardens in front of them. Arthur was grateful for the quiet. He needed to talk, but he didn't know how to express the doubts and the irrational fear that clutched him. What if it was all for nothing? What if whatever sacrifice he made, he lost everything in the end?

"I believe only our actions make our future."

"I want to believe that too. But right now? I don't know."

"Your future will be what YOU want it to be. Many things are different already. Destiny is not a burden. It's a matter of choices."

Arthur took another sip.

"How is it? Camelot?"

"It's…"

He hesitated. He could describe the huge walls and the white towers. He could make a portrait of the courtyard, of the fields around the Castle**,** of the forest which was bordering the fields. He remembered the light, on sunset. The town was always noisy. Suddenly, Arthur felt home-sick, nostalgic from the sound of boots on the stone floor and the yells from the training yard.

"I guess it's just home."

Joshua smiled.

"For me, home is where Claudia is. Ten minutes with her is enough to get a massive headache, but I'll give anything for her."

"I know the feeling."

Except that Morgana was not his sister. She was probably deeply shocked too. But her only concern had been to comfort him. He was just an egoistical prat. Arthur drained the rest of his glass.

* * *

Morgana was alone in the library. He stopped at the door to watch her for an instant. She was reading, seated with her legs crossed at the ankles. The book was opened in front of her, and she had her head in her hand, her elbow resting on one knee. Her other hand was flipping the pages, or pushing away some locks that had escaped from her long braid. Something in the book made her smile. Her lovely picture, so peaceful when his mind was raging, twisted his stomach into knots. He breathed slowly, uncomfortable with the brutal desire pouring through him.

Sensing his presence, she took her eyes up to stare at him, and straightened up, her reading forgotten. He couldn't approach now, or she would fully realize how much she affected him. Arthur leaned on the door frame, almost casually.

"How's the book?"

She smiled at him. His heart skipped a beat.

"It's funny. It's called a comic, come, I'll show you."

He moved toward her before his mind connected back with his body to refuse the invitation. Careful not to touch her, he sat on the opposite side of the couch. Morgana knelt on the cushions, putting the book on his lap without ceremony. Her braided hair danced on his shoulder. Arthur tried to concentrate on the minuscule scriptures in white clouds she was pointing at, but her perfume was too distracting. She smelled of roses.

"See? Snoopy…"

"That's the dog on your night-shirt."

Her triumphant grin was too much to take. Arthur pushed the book away.

"Morgana…"

Her smile faded.

"I don't want to talk about it."

She was thinking about Claudia's story. He was safe… He felt cold anyway.

"We have to."

"Not now. Please?"

There was diamonds glittering in her eyes, glint of tears or fear, he didn't care to know. He wanted to see her breathtaking smile again. Arthur took back the book.

"Tell me then, why does that kid with the stripped red shirt is holding that covert?"

"That's Linus…"

Morgana settled back in the couch, glad to avoid the difficult conversation for a little while. She was not ready to discuss the truth behind Claudia's tale. She was not going back with him. Her character was nowhere in his life as Camelot's King, or it was as an evil witch trying to hurt him. She, the real she, showed up only at the very end when she would come out of nowhere to take him with her. Their paths were to split soon. So the time they still had together, she wanted to enjoy, without explanations, without complications; just the two of them, because he was Arthur and she loved him.

* * *

After dinner, Claudia declared only two things could remedy the bad mood: apple pie with vanilla ice cream and movies. She put her brother in charge of the dessert, and left to get the entertainment.

Arthur was a bit suspicious of the second part, but the pie smelled incredibly good. Joshua explained sheepishly that the pie was a pre-made frozen one, but they had no idea what it meant and they didn't really care. He took a package from the upper-part of the fridge (the freezer) and picked up a spoon so Morgana could sample the delicacy inside.

"Ice cream is a mix of milk and cream turned into ice with chosen flavours, vanilla or chocolate or…"

"What is chocolate?"

"Tomorrow's lesson" interrupted Claudia, coming in with her rentals "Chocolate is the second best thing after…"

"Claudia!"

Joshua's warning buried the last word. Morgana caught Claudia's malicious grin. Joshua was scarlet. She joined Claudia in laughing.

"I can't wait for tomorrow, then..."

Arthur was also clearly embarrassed. Guys were so easily put off balance by sexual innuendo when women were around. It gave her a thrilling sensation of power. She offered the spoon to him with a mischievous grin.

He knew vanilla; sometimes the cook used some in sweet-bread and cakes. But this was better. The cold sensation enhanced the perfume and the sweet. The taste lingered long after it melt on his tongue. Would she taste that good, after she indulged with the dessert?

He took a quick step back, his eyes flicking open. She was observing him. Claudia saved him from whatever witty comment Morgana was about to serve him:

"Good eh? You'll see, it's heaven with the hot pie, which, my dear Joshua, is probably ready by now. You forgot to put the timer again. Now movies… You remember the photos? Well movies are a bit like that; people are having a conversation or doing something and the camera takes very quick photos of them and records sounds too. So someone imagines a story and actors plays it and you've got a movie. Comics can make good movies too, that's why the first one tonight will be my all-time favourite and the best Disney ever… 'The Sword in the Stone'. Very circumstantial too I should say…"

"What's Disney?"

"Oh boy..."

Morgana loved Disney. They laughed at the old man in the ridiculous hat and at the young boy desperate attempt to follow suit.

"He looks like you!"

"Just because he's blond and called Arthur..."

"He's wind up by the female squirrel, that's just adorable."

"I'm not a squirrel."

The women laughed harder. Joshua gave him an apologetic smile. Arthur had to admit, the scene was funny. But he would never be that embarrassed if some cute girl looked at him with such admiration in her eyes. Merlin, on the contrary… Merlin's character was pursued by some curvy mama squirrel. That was good; and disturbing.

When it ended, Claudia brandished another little flat box.

"Now, 'the scent of green papaya' that's…"

Joshua growled.

"Claudia this is nearly two hours long, without dialogues, you are not going to make us watch that…"

"It's one of the best movies ever! I've got The 5th Element too… "

"Couldn't you take 'Star Wars' or 'Titanic' ? Those are real classics…"

" 'Titanic'? And you complain about brain-washing…"

"Children!"

The brother and the sister turned at Eric's call. Arthur and Morgana were looking at their bickering with big smiles on their face.

"No fighting. Just pick-up something on the cable. No guns, no soapy romance, no asian philosophy…"

"You're not funny."

"No aliens either."

Claudia stuck out her tongue at him. Arthur and Morgana laughed harder. They had absolutely no clue what the other two were arguing about.

* * *

She didn't remember falling asleep. She remembered Claudia flipping through a selection of stories with impossible names like 'Harry Potty' 'The Mommy' or 'Termite gator'. Morgana vaguely recalled a beautiful music, and then nothing. She shifted a little to release the tension in her neck. Her head was resting on Arthur's chest, just below his ribcage. She was tempted to run her hand on him, to count the hard bones one by one, up to his collarbone, and down. The idea was interesting. Morgana moved again to bury her face in his shirt; the scent of his after-shave had faded now, but she could still remember it. Surely he didn't know she was awake, or he would push away; he always did. This was really improper, to indulge in his warm with such contentment. His heartbeat was quick under her cheek. She wished it could be her doing. But he didn't care about her that way.

Maybe her weight was uncomfortable, because he straightened her a little, so she rested on his lap, her head in the crook of his shoulder. She wondered briefly if it was how his lovers felt when they rested against him. Did he secure his arms like that around them? No, Arthur was not aware she was awake, or he'd never let his hand brush the exposed soft skin of her back, just above her belt. She could just imagine his sufficient smirk if she purred. She wanted to. Not stretching under the caress was so hard. It would be impossible to feign sleeping if she did. Arthur whispered her name in her hair, nearly a kiss.

Morgana blushed furiously. He knew she was awake! And he'd teased her all along, forcing her to ridicule herself. How dare he making her feel so alive and… and… wanting. Mortified, she pushed away abruptly, refusing to look at his face. She refused to see the mockery and self-satisfaction she knew were playing there.

"I'm tired. Good night to you all."

* * *

**A/N : today is Season 3 Final. THANKS GOD! I can hardly believe now I was so anxious at the beginning of September for Merlin to begin. Now, I'm just relieved we're done. WE'LL HAVE AN ENTIRE YEAR THE RECOVER. Anyway. I hope you like the story, and being depressed by the BBC's does not spare you the review ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

X

"Oh shit, he must be kidding."

Claudia looked up to Eric, seated at his desk.

"What?"

"Artie sent me an email. He found Arthur & Morgana's ticket back."

"Cool! I mean, that's good news, no?"

"Yes; and no. Believe it or not, the Grail is the key. The catch is: MacPherson took it from the Warehouse at the same time that the Phoenix and the Sabre …"

"Yeah, yeah, I got the picture."

She didn't like talking about MacPherson. It's because of MacPherson she had spent years without her brother. And he had nearly ruined her life again after she got Joshua back from his non-existence. If it had not been for Pete and Myka… Claudia bit fiercely in her cookie.

"What else did Artie said?"

"Not much. The Grail is the key. James took it. Need to check something. Chat later."

"Figured."

Artie Nielsen's definition of collaboration was limited. He gave very little pieces of information, and ran into trouble all by himself. Claudia finished her biscuit. She knew the rush of sugar was going to kill her night, but she took another one anyway. She sat down, to get up a second later.

"So what do we do?"

"Wait, I suppose. And try to keep those two out of more trouble."

"What can be worse than discovering your future sucks?"

Eric yawned.

"Save the philosophy for tomorrow, okay? I'm calling it a night."

"I'll use your computer if you don't mind."

"No Problem. Night."

"Good night Eric."

He kissed the top of her head, and left.

Claudia took his chair in front of the computer, stretching her fingers in front of her. Despite her funky looks and neverending mouth, she was a genius. She was a natural with technology and a computer wizard. Her train of thought might appear completely random, but she could find out a needle in the overgrown straw of the databases in no time, adding some inputs from less public systems in the process. Artie was going to need her, if he was to find MacPherson's next treasure chest. She started to work.

First she ran a general background on the artefact, to know exactly what they were dealing with. She went through the official stuff, Percival tales and the like, then dig deeper into more esoteric hypothesis, from the Mary Magdalene theory to a Stargate SG-1 fantasy. At 2 am, she considered herself an expert. It was time to call Artie, and collect the bits of info the unusual sources of the Warehouse could have. If he was willing to share, that is. She got up and twisted her neck to make the bones crack. She needed caffeine and more sugar before she faced her boss.

Morgana was seated in the kitchen in front of a glass of milk. She jolted when the door opened.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. What's up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Claudia put the coffee machine on for a full pot. Her friend looked sad.

"You should talk to him, you know."

She didn't need to say whom she was referring to. Morgana shook her head.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Morgana didn't answer right away. They'd been together most of their lives. They were childhood best friends, teen contestants; they had shared stolen treats, laughs, and punishments, and never stopped teasing each other along the way. Arthur had been her first escort to a ball, and she had supported him on his knighting. Both pretended they didn't care, even she wasn't kidding anyone. He had always been there for her. She understood what he faced as the Crown Prince of Camelot. How was she to explain to him she could not be a part of his future? That the most difficult steps of his life, he would face on his own?

Claudia poured herself a full cup of coffee.

"I know you have those rules of courtship back in your time, tokens and all, but it's overrated if you ask me. You love him he loves you just get married and have a lot of little Arthurs and Morganas running around."

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it is."

Morgana gave her a mournful smile.

"You told us, Claudia. I am nowhere in the story of his kingship, or I'm a treat. And I don't want to be a menace for him. I don't want to see him marry my maid who doesn't know what a fine heart she is going to break."

Claudia frowned, and then sighed. Comforting people really wasn't her thing. Morgana preferred changing the subject.

"You didn't tell me why you're still up."

"Well, I'm not sure now if that's good news of not, but we know how to send you back. We need to find the Grail; I'm working on that."

"The Grail? The magic cup that Eric told us about?"

"The very same. I made a little research, and now I need to call my boss. It's only 8 pm in the US, so…"

"What is a boss?"

"This, my dear Morgana, is something you really don't want to know…"

* * *

Artie Nielsen was a bit more receptive than usual. You would never believe what a near-death experience could do to a man's psyche. He had nothing to add to Claudia own findings, except maybe the user's manual. Apparently, anyone who looked into the Holy Chalice was automatically transported to where they belonged. Literally. J.K. Rowling had used the idea for the portkeys in her best-sellers.

As for MacPherson caches' location, they had no clue. He had been in Rome, in Montreal, in Washington, in Berlin, and of course in South Dakota. Their nemesis could have hidden the artifact anywhere. And he was still at large, which meant that maybe, just maybe, they were to run into him while looking for it. Their last encounter had been less than friendly.

Claudia gave it a thought. MacPherson was continuously on the moves. He could hardly travel with a lot of objects with him; it would raise suspicion. He had to have a cache somewhere, a place to which he returned to pick up what he wanted to use or sell. She didn't really need Artie's authorization to access MacPherson's personal file, but she did ask. Reluctant at first, Artie finally agreed to send the file, under the express condition that she reported any idea to him before rushing headlong into something. Trust was a two-sided thing. You gave some, you received some. They had both learned that the hard way.

When Eric came down the following morning, Claudia was sleeping on the couch. His computer had apparently survived through one of her impossible home-made software, some kind of tracking program. Now a complex web was covering a world map, with one yellow point blinking. He put a blanket over her, and called Joshua to let him know what his genial baby-sister had done overnight; then he sent an email to the Warehouse agents. Claudia might be a brilliant techno-wiz, she was still a nineteen-year old girl; dealing with whatever traps MacPherson had left behind him required the skills of trained agents.

Then he climbed the stairs up to talk to Arthur.


	11. Chapter 11

XI

He had made a fool of himself, twice in the very same day; and without Merlin's help, at that! Touching her cheek, nearly kissing her in the morning, had been the first mistake. Holding her while she slept had been the second one. He'd been so sure she was awake, and nestling freely against him. He wanted it to be for real. But she was just sleeping, probably dreaming her father was cradling her. She had pushed away as soon as he had awakened her. Damned him for the need to feel her name on his lips. Next time… There would not be a next time. He had no business imposing himself to her. She cared for him, at least as family or maybe a friend, nothing more; she didn't _love_ him. He had to accept that, and to behave accordingly. He could do that. He'd done it for years.

She felt so good in his arms; her curves fitted just perfectly onto his body. Maybe if he courted her properly… No. No she had never given one sign of harbouring anything more that fraternal feelings for him. He would not embarrassed them both a third time. They were too different anyway. She said yes when he said no. She was arguing when he knew silence was better. She stayed put when he called for action.

A knock on his door took him out of the depressing count of their differences.

"Come in! Ah, Eric…"

Arthur mentally slapped himself for hoping one instant it might be her.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No, not at all."

She rarely got up before mid-morning, when he rose with dawn. They were completely incompatible. They both liked sunsets. He focused on his visitor.

"What can I do for you?"

"Claudia found a lead to the Grail in Scotland; Calediona. I'm going with Joshua. Do you think you can cope up with Claudia and Morgana by yourself for a few days?"

"I survived shopping. I'll manage."

"Thank you. I'll let you know what we find out."

Arthur bent his head slightly and followed him downstairs. Eric was a good man. They had been very lucky to find him in the mess Morgana had created.

"Claudia will make sure you've got everything you need."

"We'll stay put anyway. I've got enough surprised from your world to last me a lifetime."

Eric grinned.

"With Claudia around, I'm not that sure you're not in for more."

"Yeah, especially if Morgana wants to play along."

"You should not give up on her."

So they were back there. Arthur decided to try that coffee-beverage instead of answering. He caught with the first sip.

"God, what is that?"

"Taste like crap, I know… I need the boost to start the day. Good luck with…"

Eric waved his hand, referring to their female friends.

"Good luck to you too."

_Please bring us that Grail quickly, __so I can go home and be my normal self again. _

* * *

Claudia was less than happy to be left behind. She argued over the phone with her (in)famous boss for more than thirty minutes then called her brother names when he hanged up on her '_about to take off, got to go, sorry_'. She had done the tiresome work and now others had all the fun. Life was absolutely deceiving.

Two days later, she was still pissed. After she hanged up on Joshua's fruitless report, Morgana smiled at her apologetically. Arthur had deserted the battlefield long ago. After pacing the room up and down a few times, Claudia finally stopped in front of the window.

"Now, what is he doing?"

Morgana joined her.

"He's training. Come on, let's go…"

"Throwing knives is training?"

"Of course. Just don't let him convince you to bear a moving target."

Throwing a dagger was an art, she remembered. It was finding the right equilibrium between power and restrain. You had to put enough speed into it for the knife to fly, and pulled just enough so it would not deviate. She admired the fluid movement of his arm, nonchalant yet deadly. He was good at it. He was good at everything implying a weapon anyway. Morgana appreciated the precise swing of his arm, coming up behind his ear, not too far, and then rushing forward as he released his grip. It hit the trunk with a small _tonk_! not far from a rope he had tied around the tree.

Arthur turned to his audience when Claudia clapped. She ran to him, an excited expression on her face.

"Wow, can you teach me that?"

"You should ask Morgana, she's good."

His face was expressionless.

"A compliment, Arthur?"

"Well, it was long ago, you're most certainly going to hurt yourself…"

"Wanna bet?"

One perfect eyebrow risen, she was challenging him. She had her hands on her hips, and a carnal smile playing on her lips. He could not resist:

"Three pitches at thirty feet. The winner of each pitch is the closest to the rope."

"Five pitches."

"Fine."

"Wait!"

They had forgotten Claudia in their contest.

"You need a prize. This is a joust, so there is to be a prize. Let me think…"

Morgana didn't let her time to come up with anything.

"You do whatever I ask without questions."

Arthur stopped his movement toward the table. This didn't sound good. She hadn't practise for quite some times, but she used to out-mark him. She was still smiling, tempting him. He picked up two knives he had borrowed from Eric.

"So will you. For one complete day."

Morgana frowned a little, and nodded.

"Claudia, you're judge."

"Don't you want to warm-up first? I don't want to see you hurt…"

She ground her teeth. He handed one knife.

"I'm fine. You go first."

He did. The blade handed one inch from the rope. Morgana took her ground. Her throw handed three inches out.

"First point to the handsome prince with the blond hair."

Arthur pitched his second, with the same results. Morgana focused on the weight in her hand, the moves of her arm, and let fly. Claudia exulted:

"Well done Morgana! Arthur leads 2 to 1."

She equalled the score with her fourth. Arthur narrowed his eyes. This was not good. He hated losing. He hated losing to Morgana. And if by any chance she won, he'd have granted her something he didn't know about. He couldn't afford to lose.

"I give you the advantage of the last knife. Go on."

Her confident smile didn't flinch. She inhaled slowly and threw her last. Claudia jaw fell. Arthur reacted like a cat. His blade pinned the cut rope to the tree. Morgana approached their target, he on her heels. To his surprise, she did look unhappy when she examined the knife holding the rope into place.

"It's an even match, then."

"I guess."

She muttered something under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

She put her knife back on the table and entered the house. Puzzled, Arthur looked at Claudia who shrugged her shoulders. He gathered the knives.

"Demonstration is over."


	12. Chapter 12

XII

Her heart was still pounding when she reached her bedroom. For a moment, she had won. Arthur was a sore loser, but he always honoured his dares. So she would have told him to leave without her, and he would have obeyed.

Morgana leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. It was her destiny not to be with him in Camelot. She wanted to stay here. She had to stay…

"What the hell was that?"

She opened her eyes to face Arthur.

"Did you ever hear of knocking?"

He ignored her comment and approached her.

"Tell me it's not about you remaining here again."

"Arthur…"

"You will come back with me."

"No. I won't."

"Oh yes, you will. Even if I have to carry you all the way back."

"You can't force me to look into that cup."

"Try me."

His eyes had the color of stormy clouds, between deep blue and grey. Morgana tried to put some space between them, but he blocked her retreat, grabbing her by the shoulders. She looked away.

"Why can't you be considerate for once? I_.._."

"Considerate? To leave you here is not consideration, that's fucking madness!"

He was shouting at her. He was angry enough to swear. If she pushed just a little more, he'd be so aggravated with her he'd _want_ to be rid of her. Morgana forced disdain into her voice, her stare stubbornly fixed above his shoulder, head straight.

"All you want is your father to pet you… You want the glory of _saving_ me, bringing me back to a place I hate, put me back into that suffocating golden cage again, and gloat."

"That's not true."

His voice was one hint sharper, the tone he had when he was losing patience.

"Gwen will be so proud… After all, you're such an accomplished prince… You're such a glorious knight…"

This blow hit. His grip on her arms tightened painfully.

"I won't force Guinevere into an unhappy marriage if she loves another."

_But you want to force _me_ to go back with you._

"Why should I care?"

"You do care, Morgana. I know you do…"

The words were dangerously soft now, caressing. He had released her. She resisted the urge to rub the soreness in her arms. She braced herself against his tormenting charm, hoping he would not hear her heart breaking when she said:

"I don't care about you. You're nothing to me."

"Repeat that while looking at me, and maybe I'll believe you."

She looked at him. He was unreadable. She searched anger or hurt on his face, but found nothing but her own pain reflecting there. She swallowed before repeating.

"I don't care about you, Arthur."

Arthur brought her hand to his lips, brushing his smile over the sensitive skin, eyes locked with hers.

"You used to lie better that than; my Lady."

She pulled her hand free and stormed out the room. She had lost this argument. She would try again. She was to stay back. It was her _faith_.

* * *

They stayed away from each other for the rest of the day. The next day, Claudia spent most of her time with her dear computer, trying to find additional clues for Eric and Joshua.

Morgana sighed at another hiss from her friend. She'd been at it for hours. Usually, the murmuring was only a prelude to pacing, and much louder (and shocking) expressions of displeasure.

The constant agitation of Claudia made her incapable of focusing on her book. The words kept dancing in front of her eyes. It annoyed her, not being able to concentrate. Usually, ignoring nuisance was not a problem. Even Arthur parading in front of her was not much of a distraction if she wanted to read.

But today, Claudia perpetual outbursts of energy seemed too much to handle. It was not that her book was not interesting. On a contrary, she loved the story. The 19th century novel talked about a valiant knight, Ivanhoe, who fought for his lands and his lady. It was beautiful written, and she was hoping for a happy ending for Ivanhoe and the adorable Rebecca. The novel was the perfect cure for a depressing gloomy afternoon.

Another noisy (and completely inappropriate in a feminine mouth) word screeched her nerves.

"Claudia, do you want some tea? I'm making some tea."

"Damnit! What the… No, thanks. Christ!"

"I'll be right back."

Morgana escaped to the kitchen, leaving Claudia glued to her infernal machine.

Arthur walked the gardens around the house for a while, then ventured along the narrow path heading to the cliffs so he could look at the sea.

The wind was colder than the day before. The weather was changing fast. The nice days of fall were over, and winter would soon take over the place. He wondered if snow was the same here than in Camelot. Despite the sour weather, he could make the form of Tintagel ruins on the opposite cliff. Her homeland was beautiful. He climbed over a boulder to get a better view.

The argument with Morgana had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Some of her accusations were too accurate for comfort. He wanted glory. He wanted people to be proud of him. And he was nothing to her: not her brother; not her lover. But she cared. It'd been hard to listen to her denial. She sounded so cold, so aloof.

He frowned, but amusement abated his exasperation. She really was naïve. After all these years of cat-fighting, he knew her every move, just like she knew his. She had tried to annoy him, so he exploded and told her to get lost. Looking away had blown up her big plan. She cared about him. He was going to prove to her she belonged with him. He was going to make her _love_ him. And the hell with the tragic tales; he never liked drama anyway.

Morgana approached her hands from the heating pot on the stove for warm. This world made chores so simple. Running water had replaced long, hard trips to wells. Clothes were already tailored, ready for buying. Exotic food could be delivered at your door-step within the hour. There were systems to provide cold air on overheated days and heat without a chimney for cold ones. Eric had explained the services were paid for, but the _possibilities _of such things enchanted her.

The boiler began to hum, singing that the water was nearly ready, and she turned to take the tea on the high shelve in the cupboard. The metallic box was pushed back on the shelf, and she had to tiptoe. One hand on the stove for balance, Morgana brushed the box without managing to grab it. It was still out of reach and she pushed.

"Watch out!"

The warning came too late. Her hand touched the boiler, and she rasped in pain. The tea box flew from her hand when she jerked back; and it froze in mid-air.


	13. Chapter 13

XIII

The small metal box was suspended between them, defying gravity.

Even paler than usual, completely abashed, Morgana looked at the flying object. It was impossible! She never had that kind of powers…

Arthur moved first. Approaching the queer thing, he gave it a little pinch. The box pirouetted very slowly. Then it fell into his hand. He stared at the innocent tea-box, half-bewildered, half-fascinated, and looked up to Morgana.

"I…"

How was he to react? He knew she had magic, but to witness it… Morgana held her breath. His stare was shifting from her to the tea-box in his hand. Finally, he put it swiftly on the table, as if he expected it to rise again as soon as he released his grip. When he saw the box was not moving, he turned to her.

Panicking, she took a step back. The movement roused the pain on her hand. Morgana brought it to her chest with a small gasp. Arthur grabbed her wrist.

"Arthur…"

She tried to escape, but he pulled her aside.

"Be quiet, I'm not going to hurt you."

Turning on the water, he forced the sore fingers under it. Relieving at first, the cold stung quickly into her skin, enhancing the pain. She bit her lower lip, restraining a sob. Slowly, the cold transformed the burning sensation into numbness.

"Better?"

She nodded, bracing herself against the coming anger. Arthur cut out the water and let go off her hand.

"Good. – he pointed at the tea-box – Can you do that again?"

Stunned, Morgana stared at him. She was a witch, one to be hate, hunt and kill. But instead of disgust, he seemed curious, even… interested. Anxious to please, she focused on the box. It didn't flinch. Morgana exhaled slowly. She had no control over her magic. It always happened like that, unwillingly; the explosions, the time-travelling, the dreams, there were all accidents.

Temper rose, fading her deception. Why her? Why now? She was resigned; she had accepted to have an ordinary life, a passive life; she had accepted to stay alone in a foreign world; she had accepted to lose him. Couldn't she at least be left in peace?

She suddenly realized how closed they were when he pressed a kiss to her hot forehead. His hands on her flaming cheeks were wonderfully cool. His gesture smoothed away some of the anger, and she relaxed a little. He smelt of rain and fresh-air. He felt like security; she wanted to nestle against him and forget the world. Morgana sensed his smile grow in her hair, a smirk no doubt for she had drown in a fantasy again. She broke free quickly. He accepted her get away casually.

"You definitely need to practise. Tea?"

Morgana accepted the cup and sat at the kitchen's table. Arthur sat opposing her, his elbows resting on the table, fingers linked around his own cup. He couldn't see hers. He guessed they were nervously twitching on her lap. She was nibbling at her lower lip again. He really wished she stopped doing that. The image of her pearly teeth biting into the tender flesh was rousingly distracting, and he needed to focus on the subject at hand.

"You really have to stop doing that, it's driving me nuts. I thought your powers were gone."

"So did I. Eric told me maybe it was temporary."

"He was right apparently."

Morgana was totally confused now. She searched his face, a bit frantic to get a reaction. He was so quiet… He always made her nervous when he was that quiet.

"Arthur, you've been told all your life Magic is Evil, why…"

"Why don't I restrain you to burn you or something? You did quite well by yourself; saved me the trouble."

"That's not funny."

Her mouth twitched, despite the statement.

"So I should thank you for not killing me?"

Amusement glittered in his eyes.

"Absolutely. Do you think you'll be able to control it?"

"I don't know."

"You need to. Not everyone will be as tolerant as I am."

His tone annoyed her a little, brushing the nerves away.

"That's so generous of you."

"I'm serious Morgana. You need to learn how to control your powers. You can't walk around making objects fly."

"I tried! But…"

She thought about the explosion of his chimney the week before; she blushed, and started chewing on her lip again. His stare fixed on her mouth. She was making it impossible for him to concentrate.

"Hey guys! They found it! Thanks to my genial skills of course… Woops. Bad timing?"

A big grin appeared on Claudia's face. She didn't look sorry. Arthur got up.

"Not at all; we were discussing about magic. Eric called?"

"Yes he did. They're coming back tonight. You'll be home tomorrow."

"Fine. If you excuse me."

Arthur retreated to his room. He had less than 24 hours to convince her to come back with him; plenty of time, if he could stop thinking about kissing her…

* * *

Arthur was lying on the bed when she entered his room, balancing a tread on her hip to work the door. He hadn't expected her to come to him. He moved, ready to get up. Morgana shook her head silently. He studied her profile while she put her caring on the bed-table. The crude modern light couldn't impair her porcelain skin. He wished she smiled, just a little, so her eyes brittle under her lashes. She was so beautiful.

"Morgana, look at me."

She glanced up. She looked scared.

Arthur gently drew her nearer, until she rest between his legs, then he took her with him when he lied back down. He shifted a little, so she could curl against his side, but he kept his arm around her. It surprised him, not to feel awkward or guilty, to lie with her. It annoyed him to be able to silence the temptation whispering about the luscious curves pressed to him.

One arm tightly secured around her waist, he pushed away wild locks from her face. It always bothered her when her hair came before her eyes.

He wished he could say it was going to be alright. He simply crushed her against him until he could feel her heart-beat matching his. Arthur sensed her relax, and, as comfort sunk in, she stretched a little to ease his grip. Temptation struck back with the brushing of their bodies.

"You're ruining the moment, Morgana, keep quiet."

Her smile warmed his neck. He was glad she didn't giggle. It was becoming harder and harder not to roll over her to…

"You're not going to kiss me are you?"

"Shall I?"

She had opened her eyes again, and was holding his stare now. Arthur wondered if he was dreaming the mist of desire gleaming there.

"You'd better not."

"Why not? You kissed me first."

"It didn't mean anything."

She pushed away a little. Arthur kept his hands on her, one on her hip, one in her back, until she gave in and lie down again.

"You really used to lie better than that."

"Shut up, Arthur."

Then she kissed him. And it wasn't brief or swift like her first. Kissing her was like the caress of velvet or silk. She was soft and hot and tasted wonderful. He let her control the kiss, opening his mouth for her when she wanted to explore, answering her hesitation with tenderness. Deep down, the sad impression grew that she was kissing him good-bye.

Morgana broke off the kiss. His self-control was unbelievable. She probably wasn't very good at it, or he would have taken over their embrace. She wanted him to. She wanted him to fight for the upper hand, to fight for her, heart of a lion, not a tamed kitten. She moved to get up.

"Where are you going?"

At least he was a little breathless.

"Nowhere. I want my tea."

She hated herself for sounding so childish. She kissed him; he was uninterested; that was the end of it. The memory would be nice, even if a bit sour. She should be grateful; regret would not haunt her with longing for what might have been.

"We should have done it sooner."

He was absolutely right. Fully realizing her love was unrequited would have saved her so many restless nights; as if. Composed, she offered a biscuit. Why was he taking her hand instead?

"Seriously, kissing you is really better than the constant arguing."

He didn't really mean that, did he? It was just another twist, another tease in their endless game. So why was he pulling her back to him, closing the gap between them to brush her lips again?

Their third was nothing like the first two. Not swift, not slow, just perfect. He let her control the kiss again, sort of. Pushed up on his hands with his arms straight behind him, he groaned when she sat on his lap, straddling him. Morgana smiled at the sound, satisfied. Maybe having the upper hand was not such a bad thing after all. Feeling him tense against her was good.

"Morgana… You need to…"

She deepened the kiss, pulling closer.

"Morgana, wait."

She froze, her fingers curled in his shirt.

"You don't want that. I know I don't."

She laughed. He cursed his body betraying him.

"You're a worse liar than I, Arthur."

She bent to kiss him again, but he stopped her, putting her off him gently.

"I'm serious. I won't bed you as a good-bye stand."

"As you like."

Now she was believing him. The sadness filling her eyes was unbearable. He tried to caress her cheek, but she rebuffed him.

"Morgana…"

She stood, carefully arranging her clothes.

"No, you're right. We can't. Tomorrow you will go back to Camelot. I won't go back with you. We don't have a future together. You'll be a great king, Arthur. The greatest of all. Scholars will praise you to the end of days. But I can't be a part of this story. I won't look into that cup, because it will take me where I belong, and it's not there with you. If I can't be with you, then I'd rather stay here."

She kissed his forehead.

"Be safe."

_I love you._ She didn't say the words. He knew that by now. And if he didn't, well, why adding pain to misery?


	14. Chapter 14

_**Epilogue**_

She knew the minute he was gone. She woke up with a horrible feeling of loss holing into her. The emptiness was so terrifying she wanted to scream. She wasn't feeling anything but void and cold. It burned and chilled her blood. He was back to Camelot, and she had nothing left but a long wait to the moment she would see him again, at the very end of his life.

Her head was heavy, and so was the bottomless breach in her chest. Then the buzzing started again. The angered voices raged again in her head. His light had kept them at bay for a week, and now they were back, hurling about wars, betrayals and murders. The terrible sounds made it impossible to move.

Even immobile, nausea was getting to her. The smell of death was strangling her. She tasted blood. Maybe his, maybe hers. If she died, it would end. If he died, she would see him again. She wanted it to stop. The castle was disappearing into dust. The fields were burning and the sorceress Morgause was laughing… Morgause was going to ruin everything, to crush Arthur's dreams; she had to warn him, he was so far away…

Morgana screamed. The sound of her own voice terrorized her. She sounded like a wound animal. She barely felt human… Arthur was gone, and so was her heart. She was nothing.

Claudia's charitable hand offered water from a tin cup, and she drank, thankful. Her head was spinning. The voices were torturing her, mocking her, detailing the pain and the destruction she was failing to prevent. She drank again, wishing the agony stopped. Light added images to the nasty murmurs, blinding. She was used to darkness; this light was not comforting. It pierced through her, ripping what was left of her soul, erasing every sound, every taste, erasing everything.

* * *

'_He went to the bed of the Queen and knelt before her, holding her more dearly than the relic of a saint. She embraced him, pressing him tightly to her bosom, drawing him into the bed beside her and showing him every possible satisfaction. Their sport was so agreeable and sweet as they kissed and fondled each other, that in truth, a marvellous joy overcame them as was never heard or known.'_

"The King will kill us if he finds out."

"Arthur, you're not funny."

"So why are you smiling?"

She tried to pout instead and failed. Arthur rolled on his back, taking her with him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry…"

"Morgana, how many times will I have to tell you I want you to wake me up if you need me…"

She silenced him with a soft kiss, before nestling on his chest again.

"I had a dream."

"Tell me."

He believed every word now. He listened and acted so her nightmares didn't get real. Camelot was prospering in his ruling.

"You were standing in the courtyard with a child."

Arthur braced himself for the rest of it. When it started like that, it was never pleasant.

"Did he have your eyes?"

She often dreamed of a boy with vivid green eyes.

"Yes. But his sister had yours."

"What?"

King Arthur looked at his smiling wife.

"I said our son will have my eyes, but his twin sister will look like you."

"With my looks, I'm in for a lifetime of worries… Did you say twin?"

"We'll call her Claudia."

"I said a lifetime of worries, not perpetual headaches."

"And we'll call him Merlin."

"God forbids."

Morgana laughed, then brushed her mouth over his shoulder.

"Bards will sing our story differently."

He folded his arms more tightly around her rightful Queen. Claudia had made her drink into the Graal and she had appeared out of nowhere in the throne room while he was yelling at his father Magic was a blessing and Magic only could save her, save him, save them all. Arthur had caught her before she fell onto the hard floor. He had never let her out of his reach/sight for long afterward.

"Then let them. I don't care. You belong to me."

Playful, Morgana linked her fingers with his, forgetting about the sadness that had momentarily invaded her heart.

"Possessive are you…"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not in this lifetime, my Love."

* * *

_The end is just the beginning.  
__June 2010_


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